LaToya drove straight to the police station with the recording of Patty Donaldson confessing she saw Earl committing incest with his mother in the backseat of a car a decade ago. They needed to interview Patty soon themselves, so they wouldn't dismiss this as some insane plot lifted from erotica.
She went in and walked to the front desk. "I need to talk to the detective in charge of the Earl Riley case. I have to tell him about some nasty shit. Now."
**********
Patty Donaldson sat conversing in the kitchen with a person that knocked on her door after LaToya left. "You are so much easier to talk with than that La La or whatever her name was. She had no interest in talking about Y&R or looking at pictures of my grandson. And you have a simple name. No ghetto nonsense. That girl's mother really dropped the ball with that. Would you like some sponge cake?" The person nodded. "Coming right up! You can take your gloves off, it is hot outside!"
As Patty cut a piece of cake and hummed a Elvis song, she didn't notice the person coming up behind her with a syringe and plunged it into Patty's neck. Patty swung around and stared at the killer in horror. "Hey! What in tarnation! I'm not into that druggie stuff! I didn't take you for the kind either!"
"I'm sorry, but you can't tell that story to the police. If it makes you feel any better, your sponge cake looks lovely," the killer said politely.
Patty dropped to the floor and started convulsing. Within minutes, she was dead. The killer packed up the sponge cake to take away in tupperware. Then the killer took the knife Patty was using to cut the cake and stabbed Patty's ass. The killer noticed a laptop with Spotify open in the living room. The killer couldn't resist putting "Patricia" by Florence + The Machine on a loop.
**************
Henry got off the phone with Dillon and knocked on the guest bedroom door. He felt a little awkward after that long arousing hug where he poked her with his boner and she liked it. Nor was he going to linger on jerking off to an Asian man titty fucking a black woman right afterwards. Nope. No correlation there.
Nia opened the door in just his Harvard shirt. The yesterday's clothes were on a pile on the bed. "What? I felt gross, so it was better to just Winnie the Pooh it around here for today at least."
Henry lingered on the way her tits looked in his shirt and her smooth legs. He shook it off. He had to deliver important news. "Stacy was found dead by a hiker. It was an arrow to the ass and then stabbed. I'm sorry."
"Jesus. She was my friend. Sure, she was a bit flakey and I did most of the emotional labor of the friendship, but I didn't want her to die. Not even after what she did with Earl. Which didn't really make sense in the first place. Stacy looked tall guys. Earl was too short for her," Nia mused.
"Tell me about it. That sounds a bit like what happened with me and Lila. I heard from another friend that she was cheating, so I hired your sister to find out. She got pics of them banging in the gym locker room. I'm in good shape, but this guy was like action hero ripped. She cried and said he came onto her and she couldn't resist. Like that is an excuse for cheating. It isn't like I didn't get hit on, but I always firmly declined," Henry seethed.
"How long ago was the divorce?" Nia asked sympathetically.
"It has been five months. The marriage only lasted a year. I've been dating, but I'm a relationship guy, so I don't enjoy it that much," Henry confessed.
Nia made a "Pffft" sound. "I saw your hair when you came into the interrogation room. You looked like you just came from plowing someone into the mattress, got the call from my sister and left in a hurry."
Henry looked sheepish. "Date. She was boring, but attractive and I was horny. It was only heavy petting."
"I'm not judging you. I'm the girl who hit on her boss after ditching her wedding," Nia pointed out. "And my life is a mess. No job, no man, not even a dog and I'm suspected of murder. I practically begged you to rub your boner on me." Nia looked mortified at that.
"And I loved every second of it. You don't have nothing. You have friends and family that adore you. You have your health. You have a great personality. You're a writer," Henry looking at her lips. "And you're stunning."
"You forgot my great rack," Nia joked. "And I'm not a writer. I haven't written anything yet!"
"I think the first step to being a writer is deciding you are a writer. Hold on a second." Henry walked off back to his bedroom and came back and handed her Stephen King's On Writing. "I got this as a gift a few years back. I think it was a regift. My writing involves a lot of legal jargon, so I don't really have any use for it. You can have it. Even if you never make any money from it, Nia, I believe you are a writer."
That was it. Nia wanted to suck his dick, eat his ass and have his babies right there and then. Unfortunately for Nia, the doorbell rang. Henry went downstairs to answer it and Nia stood there and mentally cursed out the cockblocking bitch on the other side of that door.
Henry opened the door and it was Matt, in his casual dress of a plaid shirt and jeans. "Hey, Henry. Can I speak to Nia? Dillon told me she was here."
"He told you? He wasn't supposed to be giving that information out! Nia, Matt is here," Henry yelled up. "You can come down or I can slam the door in his face."
Nia came down the stairs nervously. "Hey, Matt. What do you want?" She self-consciously pulled the shirt she was wearing down more.
"I came to apologize for my behavior at Deflated Balls. I shouldn't have been so dismissive of you and I should have taken you up on your offer. I'm sorry." Matt revealed he was holding roses behind his back and handed them to her.
Nia hated getting flowers. It was a pain getting a vase of water and they died, so as a token of affection they were pretty shitty. She couldn't say all that without sounding like a giant bitch, so she just thanked him.
"Wil you have dinner with me?" Matt asked. "I know you can't leave here, so I'll get takeout and bring it here."